


It's all we need to get better

by StripedScribe



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Injury, M/M, Magic, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: A late night walk, and Frank finds a dog abandoned in an alleyway. Red fur, covered in scars, bleeding and blind.It was New York, anything was possible, but he doesn't make the connection. Takes the dog home, looks after him, plans what to do next.Written for FrattWeek-prompts [Park, Red]
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54
Collections: Fratt Week





	1. Park

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Moscow by Autoheart
> 
> Let's get a dog, an Irish red setter  
> It's all we need to get better  
> It feels good to not be with a wannabe  
> I am free whenever you're in front of me  
> All I need's a fraction of your happy heart  
> All I need is you

It was easier to go out with Max at night, when there were fewer people around. Without the judging, the gossiping about a pitbull, even though they weren’t banned there were enough people who’d shout at him to muzzle Max, to keep him on a lead. Safer to go throw a ball in the park as the sun was setting, give him a chance to run, to stretch out on the grass with a lolling tongue and thumping tail.

An effort to make up for all the pain he’d been through before, an apology for the nights he had to stay in alone, whilst Frank was out on missions. He had a life of luxury now, a plush bed, overflowing basket of toys, all the scratches in his favourite spots. Just behind the ears there, as they sat on the slightly damp grass, the right spot to get his leg going, a smile splitting across his face.

Pulling himself up, wincing as his knees cracked, slipping Max’s lead back on as they headed to the streets, headed home. To him, it was quiet, but he knew Matt must be out, tackling whatever crime there was in the city. Hopefully a simple patrol, there was nothing big going on tonight at least, nothing he needed to get involved in. He was ‘on call’ as they’d started to call it, giving them both chances for a night off. Not that he thought Matt actually took them, he was sure he just crept around out of Frank’s sights. No sign of the horns tonight, no stalking shadows. Leaving this area to Frank to walk through, an eye always on the people around him, a gun in his belt. Max at his heels, soft now, but always ready to defend, to fight, he’d never lose that.

He detoured, going away from his apartment for a block, to pick up some food, one of the takeaways Matt trusted. After some of his stories, he was happier to pay a little more for something that was less likely to kill him. Something quick and easy, to save him cooking when he got back, he knew his fridge was almost empty again. They carried on walking, the smell of fresh cooked chips and a burger wafting from the bag. Max kept twisting to sniff at the bag, huffing a sigh of happiness. “You’ll get fat Max, the amount of treats you persuade out of me.” For the Punisher’s dog, he was spoilt, his lifestyle nothing like what people would expect.

A scuffle from a nearby alley caught his attention, and he stopped, Max’s ears perking up, expecting to see rats, or street cats. Instead, a dog’s head popped over the top of a dumpster, jumping down on unsteady feet. Freezing when it noticed them, a slim silhouette in the darkness. “Max, lay down, stay. Let me get them.” He dropped his lead and the bag of food, trusting him to stay as he walked slowly towards the other dog.

“Hey sweet, come here, I won’t hurt you.” Crouching down, the dog instantly ran up to him out of the alleyway. Rough red fur, the tell-tale scars of a fighter. Too skinny, ribs showing, a limp on their front left leg, even as they shook with fear. “I know, it’s okay, you’re safe now. What’s happened to your leg, can I see?” They were clever, lifting a paw to show the slowly bleeding scratch, letting Frank look at it, smooth one of his hands down their back. Tease out some of the clumps of mud and blood from their fur.

They’d been looked after before, or even around the fighting. Muscles, even if they were underweight, they were still surviving. Scars that had healed cleaner than others, patches of bare fur showing more injuries, bleached spots where it had grown back white instead of red. A trembling mess now, leaning in against Frank, even as he tried to reassure them.

“What’s wrong with your eyes little one?” They were cloudy, unfocused, and the dog didn’t try to make eye contact, to focus on Frank. Relying on their ears, his ears, he noticed it was a boy as he stood up again. “Oh did they do that to you? Or was that why you’re out here?”

He followed him, shaky steps, going to greet Max, who was still laid there, tail thumping. “Gentle Max, gentle with him.” They sniffed around each other, tails wagging, Max play bowing. “He can’t see you Max, come on, he’ll have to come home with us.”

Picking him up, he held him against his chest for the walk home, trying to keep him warm zipped up in his jacket. Smiling as he snuggled further in, even as his arms started to ache. He wasn’t too sure on dog breeds, but he looked like an Irish Setter. An unusual choice for a fight dog, but he’d obviously stood his own against other dogs, to have that many scars and still be standing.

Abandoned because he was blind, it seemed the likeliest story. He’d take them to the vets in the morning, get him checked out, see if there was a chip, if he’d once been a pet. If he hadn’t, that would be another mission. He didn’t have the space or time for another dog, but he couldn’t send him to the pound. If he couldn’t find someone to take him on, he’d keep him. He’d have to.

Get through the night first, get some food in him. Reaching the apartment, he dropped him back to the floor, letting Max off the lead. They padded around together, Max looking to guide him to the water bowl, pushing him to have a drink. He put some food down, noticing the dog sniff at it before walking away. “That not good enough for you? I thought you’d be starving?”

He picked at his burger, watching the dogs walk around together, before flopping down onto Max’s bed. “I need to give you a name, I can’t keep calling you the dog in my head. At least for now, if I can find you a new owner they’ll give you a proper one.” He was a fighter, but all his mind came back to was his colour, a bright red even for a setter. “You can share a nickname with someone else for now, Red. To match your fur.” Short and simple, Max and Red. Not that he was keeping him. He barely had enough time for Max.

“Come here Red, yeah that’s you. Let me look at that leg of yours.” Frank moved to sit on the floor, Red padding over to him, sitting with a huff just in front. Gently he grabbed his paw, holding the leg up to the light, the scratch no longer bleeding. “I doubt you’ll let me wrap that up sweet, you’ll just have to be careful, we’ll look at it in the morning. Try and get you in the bath then as well and clean this muck out of your fur.” He didn’t want to stress him out too much, he seemed to have had a bad enough day already. And it was too late in the night to be trying to manhandle a dog in the shower.

Red headed back over to curl up with Max, head tilted as though listening to Frank’s movement, as he wandered to the kitchen to get a drink. Settling back down and turning on the television, trying to make the most of an evening off, even with his visitor. The dogs were getting on well, too well, Red was clearly in need of being loved, Max was never this settled when he first brought him home.

There was nothing interesting on, the background noise soon boring as he dragged himself to bed. The dogs woke up, Red following Max up onto Frank’s bed, shuffling as he tried to push them out of the way, to give himself space to sleep. “This is becoming a bad habit Max, and you’re teaching him your tricks already.” They found a space they could all fit in, Red curled up in the crook of his knees, Max pressed up against his chest.

What felt like minutes later, Max woke him up barking, and he immediately felt horns, plastic digging into his back. Blindly he reached for the light, blinking the tiredness away to see Matt sprawled out asleep on his bed, where a red setter had once been.

“What the fuck Red.”


	2. Red

“What the fuck Red. Wake up.” He poked at his sudden companion, Max still letting out rumbles of confusion. “Red.”

A groan showed Matt waking up, freezing immediately. “Oh thank fuck it wore off.” He sat up, pulling off his helmet and dropping it to the floor. Moving to the furthest edge of the bed away from Frank, sitting crossed legged on top of the covers. It was too late to speak about his boots, the damage had been done.

“Red, what.” Voice bleary and half awake, “I’m too tired for this, what happened? Was it all a dream, am I still dreaming?”

“Not a dream unfortunately. I got caught up in the wrong company, and well, you found me after they threw me in the dumpster.”

“They turned you into a dog?” This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t possible.

It was New York, anything was possible. “Yeah, I was as confused as you. It wore off though, so we’re good. Thanks for bringing me home.”

“That was why you wouldn’t eat the food.”

“I thought you realised it was me? Or at least suspected, you called me Red.” He patted the bed, Max wriggling up towards him for scratches.

“I didn’t know. Looking back, I should have, blind, scars, but in what world was I expecting the random dog in an alleyway to actually be you?”

“I don’t know Frank. It was some sort of a messed up night.”

“You’re telling me, I was working out how upset Max would be when I took you away. You’re a lot friendlier as a dog Red.” He could already tell that Matt wanted to run, to get out of here, the instant change as he returned to humanity. 

“Ha.” He laughed, and stood up, and Frank didn’t miss the way he wobbled getting off the bed. “I’ll get out of your hair now Frank. Thanks for grabbing me.”

“Can you get home?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not that far Frank, I’ve not had that bad of a night.”

“You wobbled getting down there.”

“Only ‘cause I had four legs when I jumped up. I’ll be fine.”

* * *

He made it home, because of course he did, he was Daredevil. Chance to have a quick nap, and then to get changed and go to the office. A walk, on two legs, to try and digest what had happened, before shoving it to the back of his mind. It was over, he knew to avoid that group now, it wouldn’t happen again.

There was something to be said about statements like that. To be shoved in the same box of ‘I’m fine’, a statement that was never true. But in true Murdock fashion he’d chosen to ignore that whole evening as a dream, Frank not even mentioning it again. A distant memory as the days went on, of that messed up evening he spent as a dog. He hadn’t even told Foggy, it was too far to explain, and he hadn’t got hurt, so it was out of his arrangement to let Foggy know.

Which is why weeks later he found himself on the floor of his office, standing on four legs. Unable to turn back, and slowly panicking more and more. He’d been meditating, and his mind had drifted to that night, how it felt to turn, how it felt to just be a dog.

He’d managed to not admit it to himself before, that he felt safer as a dog. Freer, even if he’d only spent the evening relaxing at Frank’s, and making friends with Max. Their relationship had changed, even if Max still seemed confused to see Matt in a human body.

He could hear Foggy in his office, carrying on like nothing had happened, he didn’t know Matt’s mistake. Neither did Karen, out at her desk as well. His door was shut, he’d been trying to listen to a court case and so they hadn’t heard him him fall to the ground. He could fix this. Panic about what this meant when he was back as himself.

Just had to meditate. Find that spot where he could switch.

He had no memory of switching back, it had happened in his sleep, out of his control. Easy enough that he’d assumed it was a timed spell, not something that seemed to be permanent. Not something that would sneak on him like this in the office.

It wasn’t working. He’d laid out in the office next to the heater, trying to get back into that relaxed state, remembering how to be human, the feel of two legs instead of four. A suit and tie instead of long fur. Ears that didn’t flop around his face. He could still hear everything, could smell even more, but the air was more muffled around him, protected by a layer of fur.

Foggy stood up next door. Standing, Matt hoped he was just going to pace, or go to get a drink. Not come in to bother him, because he really couldn’t. But of course his luck was against him, he was heading towards Matt’s office. As Foggy rapped on his door, he hid behind his desk, tail tucked in behind him.

“Matt?” This was the worst possible position to be in. Looked like Foggy was finding out today, if he could ever turn back. “I didn’t think he’d gone out?”

“He’s not. Popped his head out half an hour or so ago to get a drink, but he should be in there. Said he was working on the McColls case.” Karen joined him stood at the door, and he heard both of their hearts tick faster in worry.

“Matt, you okay?” Foggy called as he opened the door, and saw no-one. Fuck, he’d have to show them. He walked out from behind the desk, head bowed and tail tucked between his legs. This was up there on the most embarrassed he’d been at work, fast passing all the times he’d fallen asleep in his office.

“Um. Matt?” His tail thumped against the ground. His tail freaking wagged and he didn’t even ask it to. He looked up, head tilted, and heard Karen gasp.

“His eyes Foggy.”

“Yeah, I know. Matt, what happened?” He wasn’t sure what he expected him to say, it wasn’t like he could talk like this. He just rumbled, a low whine, lying down with his head on his paws. “You’re stuck like this? Has it happened before?”

He nodded, glad Foggy was asking questions he could answer.

“Are you hurt?” A shake no, and this was so frustrating. Foggy crouched down closer, Karen stood at his back. “How can I help?”

He could only whine, if he knew that he wouldn’t be stuck anymore. “Do you just need to wait for it to wear off?”

A mix between a shake and a nod, he wasn’t sure. Didn’t know how to fix it, how to undo it. He crawled up to Foggy, pushing his head under his hand, before freezing. That was a bizarre instinct, but Foggy knew what he’d wanted.

Frank was right. He was friendlier as a dog and it was completely out of his control. It was easier, he felt freer, without the ability to talk. Even if it ruined everything else in his life.

“What do you want to do Matt? Should we go home, do you want to go home?”

He did, so badly. Or to Frank’s, to work out what had fixed him last time. But if he turned back halfway that would cause so many other problems. And he didn’t think he should go home alone, but he couldn’t drag Foggy away from work.

Standing up, he nudged at Foggy, leading the way back to his office, curling up on the floor beside his desk. Maybe if he slept it would wear off again, let him back into his body.

“You want me to carry on working?” He nodded, his tail tucked over his nose, paws hidden beneath him. “Okay, you want to sleep it off? Let me try and find something more comfortable for you.”

He had half dozed off when Foggy came back, an armful of cushions from the waiting room sofa, and a couple of blankets, making them into a bed. Much more comfortable than the floor, he quickly drifted off, stretching out in his sleep as Foggy reached down to stroke his fur.

When he woke up again, he was human, and could feel Foggy looking down on him.

“You’re so much cuter as a dog Matt.”

“Hmmm.” He stood up, trying to straighten his jacket out. Thankful that for whatever reason clothes stuck through it, even if they ended up rumpled. “Frank said the same. Or friendlier I think it was.”

Foggy’s laugh turned into a coughing fit, as he held onto his desk. “Frank has seen you as a dog, and you didn’t even tell me this had happened?”

“I wasn’t expecting it to happen again. It was weeks ago, I got caught up in the wrong fight, and they turned me into a dog, threw me into a dumpster. Frank found me, didn’t realise it was me, but thought I was a stray and took me home. And then it happened again today, I was meditating and my mind drifted back to it, and then, well.”

“Okay. Okay this is almost as crazy as finding out you’re Daredevil. You need to be careful Matt, if you haven’t got a hold on it.”

“I know.” A sinking realisation that he could simply switch into a dog at any time, and could be unable to turn back. “I didn’t ask for this Foggy.”

* * *

He’d taken Foggy’s concern as a sign he should learn to handle it. Which meant that he was using one of his night’s off from Daredevil to sit in his apartment, trying to find that feeling again. Trying to remember walking on four legs, the feel of fur-

That was a lot easier. Too easy. He walked around his apartment, relearning where everything was, and returned to the centre of the room. Now the harder part, to switch back. He couldn’t wait to fall asleep every time he needed to be human again.

Thinking human thoughts, of walking on two legs. Using his cane, wearing clothes, eating and drinking. Talking to people, to Foggy, arguing with Frank. Waking up in Frank’s bed-

“Oh. Okay.” Another feeling to hide away, they weren’t even friends, just acquaintances. He switched back to a dog again, running around the room, up and down the stairs to get used to the different movements. Stopping, and back to human, stretching out, feeling out of breath.

He had it. He wanted to brave outside. It was dark, they might not notice a stray dog on the streets. Pulling on a coat, he left his cane and glasses at home, it would be quiet enough to make do without them, to make do with his hood pulled low. Something less to worry about hiding or leaving somewhere.

It was freeing, to be a dog on the streets. To notice things he wouldn’t have when he was human, to run faster. Ears tuned in to everything around him, the sound of the wind through fur. Frank had said he had red fur, but he wasn’t sure what breed of dog, he should have asked Foggy.

He’d made his way to the closest park without really realising, soon feeling grass under his paws instead of concrete, and far too many things to smell. He was full of energy, and bounced around with no one to watch him, running circles around nothing, that tail of his wagging without his consent. That would be such a tell to anyone, he needed to get that under control.

But it was so much easier to let go, to roll onto his back with his legs in the air, his tongue lolling out. To be free, and it was so tempting to not go home, to not turn back and carry on with his life. He barked and it echoed around the park, lighting up the trees, the buildings bordering it, the ripples on the nearby pond.

The next few of his nights off were spent the same, running the city as a dog, building up his confidence. Showing off to Foggy and Karen at work, that he had it down, using it to calm down and decompress. As Frank had done, he started calling the dog Red, a third part to his person, and to him, feeling like the truest part.


	3. Collar

He should have told Frank really. That it had happened again, that he’d worked out how to do it on command. He would be supportive, interested in it, or as confused as Matt was. But his confusion spread from more than just being able to turn into a dog, and more into how he felt about Frank, how he was the person he had to think about to be able to turn back. That more than the family he’d found in Foggy, he wanted Frank to be more. That waking up in Frank’s bed was something amazing, and he’d give anything to get back there.

He really should have told him before he was seen as Red. Before he’d got so comfortable he stopped paying attention to the people in the park, adventuring out more in the day, running circles around the park when it was quieter.

Not noticing before it was too late that it was Frank and Max entering the park, the click of Max’s lead coming off, a ball to be played with. Frank’s frozen movements as he saw Matt across the park, trying to hide behind a tree.

“Red! Come here!” Too late. He was faster than Frank like this, but there was no point in hiding. Especially with Max barrelling down the grass towards him, and into him, almost knocking him over. He nudged him back, pushing him to play, and they soon tore back towards Frank, running past and around him. It was easier to play with Max than to try and explain it to Frank. He would, eventually, but they’d both come to the park for the same reason, they may as well do that first. It wasn’t like he could switch back here anyway, too many eyes around.

A run later, and they were both out of breath, settling down to walk beside Frank. “Red, what happened? Can you change back?” He nodded, looking up towards Frank.

“Why aren’t you?” Not having human words was frustrating, but there was nowhere hidden here to switch back. He could only huff, and try to lead them out of the park, somewhere sheltered he could change. “Red I don’t understand where are we going? What happened, did they get you again?”

He ran into the darkness of an alley, quickly changing, pulling his hoodie down and walking out again. He hadn’t brought his cane with him, so he concentrated on Frank and Max’s steps to spot the gaps in the ground. “I couldn’t change in the park, if someone saw me Frank.”

“You can just change like that? What happened? I thought it was a spell, did they hit you again?”

“Still from that time. I turned a few weeks ago in the office, got stuck for a few hours. I’ve been practising on my nights off, and can switch back and forth. I meant to tell you before, but I didn’t get chance.” Was too scared to tell him, worried of the conversation drifting back to how he can turn back, or how he woke up in Frank’s bed and ran away.

“Red we’ve had so many missions together. You’ve been doing this for a few weeks? It happened first what, a month ago? And you’ve been running around the streets as a stray dog, going to play in the park?” It sounded so much worse when it was put that way, and Matt grimaced, starting to walk back towards his apartment. They had had missions together, nights spent on rooftops talking about their past, feeling like they were getting closer.

“You make it sound so much worse than it is.”

“It’s pretty bad Red. You can turn into a dog, and we don’t know why or how. And you’re pretending to be a stray dog, what if the next person to see you isn’t kind and takes you to the pound or somewhere?”

“I’m not a stray though.”

“You look like a dog that’s been used for fighting, you’re blind and skinny, and you’ve got no collar or chip. If they’re kind enough to take you to a vet to find an owner, they’re still going to get nothing, and then you’ll end up on death row.”

He was skinny? He knew he was scarred, even as a dog, could still feel the pull of scars against skin when he stretched too far, knew that injuries carried over. “I won’t though.”

“For fucks sake Murdock, you can’t guarantee that. What if you get hurt? What if they do capture you, what are you going to do, turn back and try to explain that away? Pounds are built to be impossible to escape, you never hear of dogs getting out under their own power.”

“I wouldn’t get caught.” He was cleverer than a dog, he could get away, change, escape.

“Matt, please, listen to me. They are clever, and you are soppy as hell as a dog. Please. I know clothes carry over, just, please, wear a collar? We’ll find one that won’t bother, stick a tag on with someone’s details, a tag that says you’re allowed to be out alone. No one is going to know you’re actually a human, but there are people out there that worry about strays, and there’s people out there that abuse strays. A stranger sees you on the street they’re going to worry for their safety with a loose dog, even if you don’t mean them harm, you’re a big dog and the city isn’t used to dogs.”

“I don’t need to be kept on a leash Frank.”

“Matt. Matt. I’m not trying to punish you.” He sighed, a hand running through his close cropped hair, before an aborted movement, as though he was about to grab Matt’s arm. “I’m trying to help you keep safe. This magic is something I don’t understand, but you seem to be safe, and I don’t want to tell you you can’t run around as a dog. But I need you to be safe when you’re doing it.”

He was so slow. Too slow to realise the way Frank felt about him was possibly the way he felt back. And he’d just started arguing with him. “Maybe you’re right.”

Besides him, Frank deflated, the built up worry and concern fading away. “It would keep me safer, and you wouldn’t worry about me as much then?”

“I’m always worrying about you Red, you’re a fool no matter what you’re wearing, or how many legs you have.” Truth, truth, truth. Matt was sinking further into this feeling. “Want to bite the bullet and go and buy one now and get some tags?”

That would mean spending more time with Frank. It sounded a perfect idea. “Okay.”

“I’ll come with you, Max needs some more food anyway.” Max perked up his ears at his name, and Matt reached down to scratch at his neck.

“I assumed you would,” He laughed, “I might need a hand matching the right colour collar to my fur.”

“Oh of course you’d worry about that Red. You’re getting a pink flowery one for that.”

* * *

A few days after getting the collar, (red, not pink and flowery, Matt checked with the shopkeeper) he returned to the pet shop, buying some soft beds. One for his apartment, and the other he snuck into work, to hide in his office. He’d grown used to spending his breaks as Red, finding it easier to relax and sleep as the dog, to catch a quick nap for half an hour. He didn’t quite fit curled up in the chair, and the carpet was a lot less comfortable than he expected.

“Matt? Oh. Wait, you have a collar?” He was too slow to turn back, and Foggy’s hand was on his neck, reading the tags.

“I’m allowed to be out. Don’t worry.” He turned it over, reading the details on the back.

“If worried, contact Pete. And telephone numbers. Matt, who the hell is Pete and why do you have his collar on? What’s happening with you?”

He switched back, ending up sat on the floor with Foggy’s hand still on his neck, which he quickly pulled away. “Pete is Frank’s cover name. He was worried about me ending up at the pound if I was found on the streets.”

“I- Okay, one thing at a time. You’re roaming the streets as Red?”

“Yes.” Was he going to have to argue this again? He was fine, honestly.

“Okay. Okay, you know what you’re doing, I’ll trust you there. Frank’s in charge of you?” He winced, realising that’s exactly how it would look, to have the Punisher’s details on him. Like he was owned by someone.

“I- Foggy. Hmm-” He took a breath, trying to get his words in order. “He’s not in charge. It’s just- He was worried about me out on the streets, said if I had a collar people would be less likely to take me in? But if I was injured or something as Red then he wanted someone to be able to contact him so he could get me.”

“Okay. I’m not going to lie, I don’t know what to think. But I know you trust Frank, and I trust you. I wish you’d told me you were going out as Red Matt, I’d be as worried as him to know that. It isn’t safe out there for dogs, if you got stuck again and were lost.”

“I shouldn’t get stuck again. I didn’t know how to turn then, but I’ve got it now. It’s freeing Foggy, I’ve never felt so relaxed as I do when I’m a dog, I can sleep easier. It’s why I brought this in, so I can nap in my breaks, and look after myself better.”

Foggy’s deep drawn out sigh reminded him of the night he’d been found as Daredevil. Of tiredness, of worry.“You can’t rely on it Matt. If you’re struggling, let us know, don’t rely on hiding away as a dog because you’re struggling.”

“I’m not struggling. I’m okay. I was, when it first happened and I was stuck, and I should have come to you. But I’m okay now, I promise. Just still a little confused over being able to do this, but I’m okay.”

Foggy moved to sit on the floor next to Matt, their conversation falling quieter. “You do seem happier, is that down to having Red? Or having more time with Frank?”

He mulled over his words for a few seconds before answering. “Both Foggy. I- I wasn’t sure how I felt about Frank. I still don’t really know how I feel, but I want to spend more time with him. Having this happen, having to rely on him that day? It made the feeling stronger, and I could pretend I was someone, something else for a little while.”

“I can tell. You talk about him a little softer now, you seem to trust him more than you did before.” He’d never had this feeling of being seen so well. But of course Foggy would notice, they’d been through so much together. Had their own moments, whilst they both figured out who they loved, before drifting apart and crashing back as friends, as brothers again.

What he felt for Frank was different, and more than any feelings he’d had in the past before. Someone he could be completely himself with, in whatever form that took. Who accepted him for who he was, whether that was Matt, or Daredevil, or Red.

“I think you should meet with him, outside of work. As Matt and Frank. Not as Red, not as Daredevil and the Punisher. Go and talk, because I’m sure he feels the same way as you. He would be lucky to have you Matt.”

* * *

A walk turned into a date, and a date turned into more dates, which turned into Frank finally giving up his safe-house to move into Matt’s. A closet filled with a red suit and bulletproof vests, batons and guns. A cane resting against the wall alongside jackets and dog leads. A bed big enough for two men and a dog, or a man with two dogs.

They enjoyed their walks, in whatever form that would take for Matt. Chasing along with Max alongside a river bank, Frank strolling along watching them. Or an arm looped in Frank’s as Max bounce around beside them, nudging at Matt to play, wanting him to change.

Living together turned into more than love, it turned into growing old together. Of losing Max and surviving that together, an empty bed for too many years, months in which Matt refused to turn, aching over their loss. Rescuing and fostering more dogs, more time on their hands as they hung up the horns and then the guns for the last time. Red’s white patches growing as Matt too got older, comments from neighbours to Frank that that dog had been around forever, even after they’d lost Max.

But they would be together forever. As they settled down finally, away from the hustle of vigilantism, leaving the rescuing to those younger and fitter than them. A life of peace, with their dogs, with their friends and family.


End file.
